Letting Go
by ProcrastinationQueen
Summary: While in Atlanta, Brenda begins to deal with the loss and changes in her life. DISCONTINUED - please read the absolutely amazing Welcome Her Home With Red Roses by Labyrinth01 instead. She has written this tale far, far better than I ever could have.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello, gentle readers. I'm back, as promised. I've had random scenes and bits of dialog lying around for weeks that I'm just starting to be able to knit together. Now, while this story is about Brenda's time in Atlanta, there will be hefty doses of Fritz and other characters will be involved a bit too. And the wonderful Labyrinth beat me to a couple of Atlanta stories, and I hope mine doesn't pale too much in comparison.

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**Letting Go**

_Ch. 1 - Departure_

The morning sunlight streamed into the bedroom.

Fritz sat down on the bed next to his sleeping wife and watched her for a moment. She looked so peaceful that he hated to wake her, but it had to be done. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Sweetheart, you need to get up. You've got to finish packing."

"Mmrphhh... No..." She tried to bury her face in her pillow.

Fritz smiled as he stroked her hair. "Come on, Brenda. Rise and shine."

"Tired."

"You can sleep on the plane."

Brenda slowly pushed herself into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. "I could have slept last night if you hadn't had other ideas."

"Me?! You're the one who ambushed me when I got out of the shower."

"There was no ambush. I couldn't help it - you were standin' there naked, just lookin' so good."

"So it was spontaneous?"

"Of course."

"Then why were _you_ already naked?"

"I don't recall you havin' any objections."

No, he smiled to himself, he hadn't. None whatsoever. He'd been tired from a long day when he'd gone into the shower, but as soon as he got out and saw her and her beautiful body, he was wide awake. They had wound up making love all night long, finally falling asleep just a couple hours ago. He could still feel the way her body had melted into his. He leaned down and kissed her, then pulled her to him as they both deepened the kiss.

"I thought you said I had to finish packin'," she said as he trailed his lips down her neck.

"We'll get it done. I'll help you…" He slid back under the covers with her.

"I don't think I can pack _that_"

"Let's see…"

* * *

They arrived at the airport for Brenda's flight to Atlanta later than planned, having had to rush to get dressed and finish packing. But the happiness from earlier gave way to a wave of sadness as they entered the airport and the reality of her leaving hit. There was no way Fritz was just going to deposit her on the curb and drive off, so he parked and walked into the terminal with her, holding her hand as she checked her bag and got her boarding pass. Unwilling to let her go just yet, he flashed his badge at security and accompanied her to the gate. It was an abuse of his position, but neither of them cared. This way he could spend almost an extra hour with her. They didn't really talk much, but they maintained physical contact, sitting with their arms around each other, even after the boarding calls started being announced. She stood up to board and looked back at him. He was sure the sadness he saw in her eyes was reflected in his own. They went into each other's arms again and held on tight until the gate agent told them she had to board or miss the flight. Part of her wanted to miss it, but she pulled back from the embrace. "I love you so much," she said as she kissed him.

"I love you, too." He wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Ma'am, you really need to board now."

"I'm comin'".

"Call me when you get to your Dad's."

"I will."

Another kiss, and she disappeared down the jetway.

Fritz went to the window by the gate and watched the plane taxi toward the runway. He waited until it took off and was out of sight before making his way out of the terminal to go home. He felt empty without her, and she'd only just left. He wondered how he'd get through the next weeks.

Brenda fought tears as she boarded and tried desperately not to cry on the plane. She chided herself that she was being ridiculous. It wasn't as if one of them was going off to war or anything - she was just going to see her father. But she hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to leave Fritz, even if it was only for a little while. Fortunately she had a window seat and could turn away a bit from her fellow passengers and try to hide her tears behind the SkyMall catalogue.

As the flight progressed, she tried in vain to get comfortable. Her still healing ribs were a bit sore as a result of the previous night's - and this morning's - "activities". Fritz had tried to be gentle with her, but there had been a bit of desperation in them knowing she was leaving. The oh-so-comfortable airplane seats weren't helping matters. When the flight attendants came by for beverage service, she ordered one of the little bottles of wine. It wasn't good wine, but it would do. And alcohol hit a body harder at 30,000 feet than at ground level, so she knew it would do the trick. And it did. It took the edge of the ache of her ribs and of leaving Fritz and enabled her to doze off for a couple of hours.

Once the flight had landed, Brenda made her way through the hoards of people to the baggage claim to retrieve her luggage and meet her father. She was surprised to see another familiar face.

"Aunt Brenda!"

"Charlie!" Brenda met the girl with a big hug. She was happy to see her niece and that Charlie had driven Clay to pick her up. The Atlanta airport was chaotic, and he'd have hated negotiating the traffic around it.

"That's all right. You two can just ignore me. Just pretend I'm not here."

Brenda released her niece from her embrace and went to hug her father.

"Oh, Daddy. I missed you!"

"I missed you, too, honey."

When he released her, she gave him an appraising look. He looked tired, she worried.

Brenda didn't notice Charlie giving her a similar appraisal. Her aunt looked tired, too. More than tired actually. She was drawn and pale, and something else Charlie couldn't quite put her finger on. But she didn't have time to give it much thought then as Clay began to try to herd them out of the airport and toward home.

Charlie's parents and siblings were waiting for them at the house for a late (for them) dinner. After they'd eaten, they stayed gathered around the table, with the kids eager to tell their aunt what was new in their lives. But after awhile, it became apparent that Brenda wasn't really participating in the conversation.

"You ok, Brenda Leigh? You're awful quiet," Clay inquired.

"I'm just tired is all."

"Travelin' and flyin' always wears me out too. Why don't you go on up to bed. There'll be plenty of time for family in the days ahead."

Brenda bid everyone goodnight, and after a round of hugs and kisses, she made her way upstairs. When she got up to her room, she called Fritz. She had texted him when she landed, but hadn't had a chance to check in after she got to the house. He answered on the first ring.

"Hi honey. You got in ok?"

"Yeah. And I somehow lucked out by not getting a screamin' kid or some guy with bad BO next to me on the plane. And sorry I didn't call you when I got here - Bobby and Joyce were here with the kids."

"That's ok. I figured it was something like that."

She started to say something, but suddenly yawned.

"Aww, worn out?"

"mmm, can't imagine why…"

Fritz chuckled. "I don't recall you having any objections."

She laughed too, as he tossed her words from this morning back at her. Then she yawned again.

"I should let you get ready for bed. Too bad I can't tuck you in."

Oh, she wished he could. "Hold on - I'll put you on speaker."

She quickly got ready for bed while continuing to chat with him and then settled herself under the covers, curled up with the phone.

"Comfy?"

"More or less."

"Do you need a bedtime story?"

She laughed. "Do you have one?"

"Well, I know a great one about a dashing FBI agent and a beautiful and brilliant Southern belle…"

He made up his story as he went along and listened as her laughter got softer as she got sleepier. He wrapped it up with a nice happy ending.

"Goodnight, Brenda. I love you."

"I love you too, Fritzy."

They hung up then, and Brenda, tired from the day, fell asleep almost instantly with Fritz's sweet, silly tale still floating through her mind.

TBC...

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A/N

Thanks for reading my little prologue. Unfortunately, I can't promise a steady update schedule. It might be sporadic due to work and family commitments but I'll do my best to keep things moving along.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm SO sorry for the massive delay! Beyond work issues, I've had a heck of time with this story, getting things organized, trying to have things make sense and fit together, etc. Missing scene fics are so much easier, because there's an established framework to build on, and a defined beginning and end. Here, I've got her someplace we've never really seen her on the show, and with a state of mind we never really saw her in. And then so much time went by without me writing. I finally did a full re-watch of S7, so I could "hear" the characters better again in my head. Hopefully, I've done an ok job keeping it realistic for the characters.

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**Chapter 2: Delusions**

The first couple of days that Brenda was gone weren't too bad for Fritz. He missed her, of course, but he was used to some separation when she was working on a case. The woman pulled all-nighters with relative frequency (he had no idea how she could function so well on so little sleep), and a couple of nights without her was not unusual. There had also been a few times when they'd barely seen each other for a couple of weeks at a stretch when they were both busy with separate investigations. Once, they'd gone nearly a week with their only communication being a few very brief phone calls and the occasional short text message. Such was the nature of working in law enforcement. And right now, the long hours were welcome. He had a couple of investigations that seemed to be ramping up significantly at the moment, and the extra hours they required provided a good distraction from the fact that Brenda would not be home for some time and, unlike when they were busy with work, he couldn't just stop by her office to visit her for a few minutes just to see her beautiful face and give her a hug.

But even though her being gone at night wasn't unusual, he hated sleeping alone, even when they were apart for just one night. He always missed the feel of her soft warm body next to his, how she looked when she slept, the soft sighs she'd sometimes make in her sleep. And he'd never tell anyone that he did it, but whenever she wasn't home, he slept on her side of the bed. Then he could at least have the scent of her lotion and shampoo surround him. This time, he even left her robe where she'd left it the day she went to Atlanta, tossed carelessly over the foot of the bed. He planned on leaving it there all week until he took off the sheets to wash them. He thought he might even put it back after he remade the bed. He had no problem giving himself the illusion that she was near and would be home soon rather than being over 2,200 miles away for an extended length of time. He had noticed Joel sitting on her robe watching him get dressed for work one morning, so Fritz could even pretend he did it for the cat's sake, to give him a reminder of Brenda. After all, while Joel might officially be Fritz's cat, he could be a real mama's boy.

Fritz figured he could keep up his delusion for maybe a week at the most, until the weekend anyway. Beyond that, he had no idea what he was going to do.

The first couple of days she was gone weren't too bad for Brenda, either. Like Fritz, she was used to some separation and days and nights apart in the middle of investigations. And she may not have had a case to work at the moment, but that didn't mean her days were empty. On the contrary, she found her schedule for the first couple of days in Atlanta to be jam packed. There were some of Daddy's doctor appointments, which she had planned on, but plenty of stuff she hadn't. Like family dinners and relatives and friends of the family stopping by. She thought it was odd, since she was going to be there awhile, that everyone seemed to have a need to see her right away.

And then there was housework. Again, she'd planned on doing that. But she didn't really plan on the amount. Clay had grown used to Willie Rae picking up after him. He might have been a career military man, but somewhere along the way, he lost that military orderliness. Brenda remembered her Mama complaining about that. ("The man demanded perfection from his soldiers and airmen, but he can't pick up his own drawers and drop them in a hamper?!") The kitchen and living room weren't too bad, since Amy or Joyce or Charlie would stop by regularly and straighten things up a bit when they brought food over. But the den and the upstairs, well, that was a different story. And had the man forgotten entirely how to clean a bathroom?

But boy, did it make her appreciate Fritz, who not only knew how to clean up after himself but usually was the one cleaning up after her too. She told him as much when she called after she had collapsed into bed one night, spent from a day doing battle with the master bath.

"Honey, I want you to tell me who taught you to clean, 'cause I wanna kiss them. And if you taught yourself, well, I wanna kiss you. I swear, Fritz, I thought I was gonna have to call in an explosives unit to blast that soap scum off the shower. And the toilet? HAZMAT required. Ugh!"

Fritz laughed as she continued. But he cringed a little too at some of her descriptions. Brenda had a tendency to be overly dramatic, but he had a sinking suspicion some of her descriptions weren't all that exaggerated and may have been dead on. He'd lived with guys before, and he remembered the science experiment gone wrong that was the bathroom in his frat house.

"…and why there are dishes everywhere, I don't know." She sighed, winding down her rant.

"The tables have turned, huh?"

She didn't miss his pointed tone. "Hey! I'm not that bad!"

"No, no you're not. And clutter is definitely not the same thing as grime. I'm just teasing, honey." He wouldn't mind having her there to clean up after right now. But he pushed that thought aside, still trying to avoid missing her too much. Joel scampered by, off on some unknown cat mission, which reminded him of something from earlier.

"Oh, speaking of toilets, Joel almost took a swim in ours today."

"How'd he manage that one?" Brenda wasn't overly surprised the cat had gotten himself into a bit of trouble. He was often getting into places and things he shouldn't.

"I'd just taken a shower, so maybe the moisture in the room made the seat a little slick, but he almost slid right in. He managed to land on his feet on the floor after some mid-air flailing. It was like something out of a cartoon."

"Is he ok?"

"Oh, I think the only thing wounded was his feline pride. I was laughing at him, and he shot me the stink eye as he stalked out of there."

Brenda laughed at mental image she got of Joel's misadventure, but tried to ignore the sting of missing both her husband and her pet. She and Fritz continued chatting, and it seemed as if both of them were making a concerted effort to keep the conversations light, as if maybe pretending they were having a casual everyday chat would make the miles of separation disappear.

Unlike Fritz, though, she didn't think she could maintain any type of delusion about her absence, certainly not for a week as he hoped he could do. After the first couple of days, once the heavy cleaning was done and the steady stream of visitors began to thin out, the reality of her absence, and the reason for it, bled back in. It didn't help that her day-to-day life had completely changed.

For most of the last 7 1/2 years, Brenda has had two constants in her daily life - her work and Fritz. Suddenly, she had neither and it threw her well out of sorts. While Fritz could go about his work day relatively normally, Brenda did not even have the familiarity of routine. The change was evident from the moment she woke up - she wasn't in her own bed, she had no job to go to, and she didn't return to her own home at the end of the day. And being in her parents' house, she was faced with constant reminders of her mother. Mama was everywhere, in every room and in nearly every object. And yet, she was gone.

But as "off" as her days felt, the nights were worse. The house was silent, but her head was not. Her mind replayed all the shit from the past year, both while she was awake and after she fell asleep. This wasn't new, but now she didn't have Fritz lying next to her to help chase away the nightmares. She was left to face them alone. She could have called Fritz, no matter what the time, and once she had, claiming to still be on California time when he asked why she was still up at 2:00 in the morning. She suspected he knew the truth though. But she didn't want him to worry and she didn't want to feel needy, so the next time she was ripped from sleep she didn't call.

Lying awake in the dark, Brenda felt like her nerves were frayed. She'd been unravelling for awhile, even before Mama's death. The lawsuit and Daddy's cancer started it and it had spiraled from there as the crap just kept coming. Then toward the end, she was hit with the triple whammy of Mama's death, the reveal of David as the leak in Major Crimes, and the showdown with Stroh in quick succession. She hadn't even really recovered from the lawsuit and she'd not had time to deal with any one thing before another blow had come. Then another. And another. She felt raw, as though she had been scored with hundreds of tiny cuts.

Brenda had felt similar before, though to a lesser degree, when a case had left her emotionally battered. When that happened, she'd climb into bed next to Fritz at night and settle into his arms. She was safe there - he was her sanctuary, her calm harbor from the storm of her life. His presence and love warmed her and steadied her. But right now, far away from him, all she had was his t-shirt to surround her and a cold pillow to hug.

And, as they had so often of late, the tears came.

TBC…

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A/N: I swear it won't take me over 2 months to post the next chapter! And don't worry, the story will have a happy ending, but the path to it won't be smooth. Re-watching the last season, I was struck at how vulnerable our girl was, and then how much she seemed to have come undone in the final set of episodes. Pulling herself together will be a process, but it can't happen until she finally learns to let go.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**:

And we're back. This story is killing me, yo. Or maybe it's the flu that's been kicking my tail. I keep writing, then deleting. I know where I want to end up, but getting there isn't easy. I hope you enjoy this little chapter.

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**Chapter 3: Sunday**

On Sunday, Brenda went to church with her father. Outside of weddings and funerals and a handful of Christmas and Easter services her parents had dragged her to, she hadn't frequented the inside of a church since she left for Georgetown when she 18 years old. And she didn't want to go now, but she didn't want to say no when Daddy asked her to come with him, either. It seemed important to him, and she'd blown off things that were important to her parents for far too long.

The elder Johnsons had been members of their particular congregation for decades and had both been very active in the church, even to the present day. They had worked with the youth group when their kids were teens, much to Clay Jr., Bobby, Jimmy, and Brenda's youthful mortification, and later Clay served as a deacon with Willie Rae involved in children's ministry and helping with the sick and homebound. They had many friends there, and Brenda knew that several members of the congregation had lent a hand during Clay's illness and after Willie Rae's death. When Brenda and her father arrived, they were greeted warmly. Brenda found herself surrounded with handshakes, hugs from people she vaguely remembered, and 'oh how nice to see you again!'s before they were shown to what appeared to be Clay's usual seat in plenty of time for the announcements, hymns, and other standard parts of the church service. It was all every bit as exciting and interesting (not) as Brenda had remembered.

Her attention span already shot, Brenda only half listened to the sermon. Instead, her gaze wandered over the congregation, settling on various members and wondering who was up to what illicit activities the other six days of the week. Was this woman embezzling funds from her employer? Was that man cheating on his wife? And what secrets might that nondescript couple in the back pew be hiding? She couldn't connect with the sermon itself about God and his infinite wisdom and will. Actually, she didn't think she was all that familiar with God, certainly not as the pastor spoke of him. No, if there was a God, he was a wind-it-up-and-watch-it-go kind of deity. With a sick sense of humor. How was it his will that innocent people were brutally murdered? Children abused? A boy abandoned by his mother at the zoo and forced to turn to prostitution to survive? And Mama… the rock, the cornerstone of a family, taken abruptly when her family still needed her. Brenda inwardly scoffed at the idea of God present in any of that. Now the devil, on the other hand… Brenda knew all about him. She saw him every single day. Hell, she'd just shot him in her kitchen.

She was so caught up in her thoughts she missed the rest of the sermon and her father had to nudge her with his elbow to stand for the final hymn. Her thoughts having taken a dark turn, she was more than ready to get out of there, but she'd forgotten that the service itself was only part of going to church. There was the post-service "fellowship hour", which meant people standing around drinking bad coffee, eating dry cookies, and gossiping up a storm. And as the people descended, Brenda knew she would be the prime topic as anyone new usually was. Great. Clay led her around and introduced her to people and reintroduced her to those who knew her long ago. Some she even remembered. Clay clearly had a solid group of friends here, and at some point they became separated as he was pulled off into conversation with some of his friends, and Brenda was stuck with some of the older ladies. It seemed all everyone wanted to talk to her about was Mama and how wonderful she was. And how very sorry they were that Brenda had to be the one to find her, even if she was used to seeing bodies. How awful that must have been for her! _Oh God. _ She never wanted to be reminded of that morning. Tears pricked at her eyes as she prayed the torture would not go on for much longer. Fortunately for her, Clay had overheard that last part as he approached and he rescued her, saying they had to get going for lunch.

Clay usually went by the cemetery to visit Willie Rae after church, but he didn't think Brenda was up for it after the old biddies' prying and headed for home. Besides, he wanted to try to find out why she'd quit her job, and getting her more upset wasn't going to help with that. He'd brought it up a couple of times, but she'd only given him half-answers or put him off entirely. Maybe after lunch they could sit down for a chat.

And Clay did manage to get Brenda to sit down with him after the lunch dishes had been washed and put away. Once they were seated with glasses of iced tea, Clay asked point blank about what had happened in LA. Brenda had known this was coming, that her father would want details about her resignation from the LAPD and her new job. She wanted to keep putting him off, but she knew the longer she did the more suspicious he would get. Brenda knew very well where she got her tenacity from, and it was just a matter of time before his really kicked in. But it was hard to determine what to tell him, what to edit out, and what to outright lie about. In the end, she told him about it was mostly about politics, the emphasis on deals with the DA rather than confessions and convictions, how someone who in any fair and reasonable system on earth should not outrank her but now did. And how just as she didn't think she could take it any more, a new opportunity just dropped right into her lap. She told him the new position is a big promotion, which it in fact was. She was a Chief now, no deputy or assistant prepending the rank, and the position came with more money and better hours along with less stress. She and Fritz can spend more time together, and she'll be able to visit Atlanta much more, too. Won't that be nice.

She tried to spin him a good story, and she hoped he bought it. Just as Clay started to ask some questions, Brenda's phone rang. It was Fritz. Thank God, she thought as she excused herself. Once again, her wonderful G-Man came through for her, even if he didn't realize what he'd done.

Clay watched her make her escape. And he knew that's exactly what it was. He considered all she'd just told him, and all he knew she hadn't. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, or in this case, California. You can dress up bullshit all you want, but it still smells like bullshit. He can't believe she'd take an administrative position just like that. His Brenda Leigh was not some desk-jockeying bureaucrat. She's an investigator. She thrives on it. It's what makes her go. And not one word about that lawsuit, beyond her earlier response that "Oh, Daddy, people sue the police all the time". Which he supposed was true, but he knew there was more to it than that. He didn't know all the details, but Commander Taylor had let plenty slip at Christmastime. (Clay couldn't fathom how that man somehow came to outrank his little girl.) Maybe he'd have Charlie help him ferret out more information about it on the internet. If that suit was that big of a deal, it would be online somewhere. But he wondered if there was anything else besides that. He'd bet money there was. Or maybe he was just overreacting. Brenda seemed to be having an awful hard time with losing her Mama and she'd been worried sick about him with the cancer. He'd found her in or near tears more than once, and she'd been hovering over him about his health since she'd arrived. And who wouldn't want a job with more money and better hours?

Oh, how he wished Willie Rae was here. She'd know just what to do, what to say. Would she gently pull the info out of Brenda Leigh thread by thread, or would she tell Clay to quit making mountains out of molehills and just be proud of their girl? He overheard Brenda laugh at something Fritz must have said. Maybe he was just making something out of nothing. He sure hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This chapter picks up right where the last one leaves off. I'm sorry this story is taking me so long! For some reason, it's been really really hard going. I've been fighting with this chapter since I posted the last one. Thanks to Labyrinth for her advice on the first draft. (I'm not sure I've succeeded in improving things much, but I tried.) The next chapter is almost done, though, so you won't have to wait another eternity for an update!

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**Chapter 4: Escape**

Fritz and Brenda had pretty much just been talking to each other at night since their days had been pretty full, but on Sunday, Fritz hadn't been able to wait until it was time to tuck Brenda in to talk to her. That morning her absence had hit him hard, despite his attempts all week at deluding himself about it, because Sundays were the one day of the week they most often spent at home. If they weren't working, Sunday mornings were usually spent cuddled in bed together. It was always a welcome respite from their often hectic, usually stressful lives. They'd talk, make love, or just doze in each other's arms. Sometimes they'd have breakfast in bed while they read the paper. And since they usually did laundry on Sundays, it didn't matter if they got crumbs in the bed or something spilled on the sheets. Or if syrup or jam ended up in places other than on the food. He'd long ago discovered that Brenda and strawberry jam was a particularly delicious combination.

He sighed, and then tore himself from that particular recollection before he became lonely _and_ frustrated. Lonely was bad enough. Reading the comics with Joel really couldn't compare. Not that Joel stuck around long. He'd sat on Brenda's side of the bed for awhile, then glared at Fritz and jumped down. Fritz had been getting that glare from the cat for a couple of days now, almost like he was wondering what Fritz had done with his mommy. "Hey, you're supposed to be _my_ cat, buddy." Fritz swore Joel rolled his eyes before he stalked off. Completely abandoned, Fritz reached for the phone.

"Hi, honey. Sunday breakfast in bed just isn't the same without you. Joel doesn't think so, either."

"I miss you both, too."

He could hear her moving through the house and she sounded distracted. "Hey, am I interrupting anything?"

"No. Well, Daddy's been wantin' to know why I quit the LAPD, and I just finished tellin' him about my new job."

So she'd finally gotten to that. "Oh. What did you tell him?" Fritz had been curious what she'd tell her father about it.

There was the briefest of pauses before she replied. "Oh, that it was mostly politics and all that."

"And what did he say?"

"Nothin' much. And then you called."

So maybe she really hadn't gotten to it after all. And there's no way Clay didn't have _something_ to say. "Listen, I can call back later. Let you two finish talking."

"No no no. Exposition was over and the inquisition was about to start. Which you just saved me from. Thank you."

"Brenda…"

"What, you really think he needs to know all the ugly details?", she said, her voice suddenly sharp.

Uh oh. Warning himself to tread lightly, Fritz chose his words carefully. "No, of course not. But this is a pretty big change for you, and from his perspective, probably pretty sudden. He's going to have questions. And if you don't answer at least some of them, he's going keep after you about it." Fritz knew that after years of military service, Clay Johnson had a finely-tuned bullshit meter and the "politics" excuse was sure to set it off. And her running out on the conversation when the phone rang, which Fritz was sure she had, would set it off even more.

He heard her sigh. "Yeah, I know. He's like a bulldog when he gets after somethin'."

"Remind you of anyone else we know?"

"Ha ha. So, what are you doin' today?"

Well, that was a not-so-subtle change of subject. He made a snap decision to let it go. "I'll probably be working most of the day," he replied. "I've got a couple of investigations going, and the office will be dead so I'll be able to get a lot done there." And it would be easier for him to distract himself from missing her if he got out of the house. He should have gone in this morning instead of moping around in bed.

"Is that why you're callin' now, instead of talkin' tonight?" She sounded a little sad, and he hastened to reassure her.

"In addition to, not instead of. Don't worry, honey. I'll tuck you in."

"Good." They'd both come to look forward to that, a warm familiar connection at the end of the day. "Got another bedtime story for me?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm sure I can come up with something." Another idea suddenly came to him. "Hey, what's the internet connection like there?"

"Pretty good, I guess. Why?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me tonight." Sunday nights were sometimes movie nights for them, a bit of distraction before real life took over again. But good Lord, he was pathetic. Wouldn't most men be thrilled with having some quality alone time or some fun with the guys while the wife was away? And instead of enjoying some peace and quiet or getting in on Jerry's poker game, he was staying home to have a virtual movie night. Yep. So very pathetic. But he found he didn't really care.

"Ok. Daddy's got a Netflix account. I'll ask for the password."

"Netflix? Really?", Fritz replied, suprised.

"Yeah, they got one of those TVs with wi-fi and apps and stuff last Christmas from Clay Jr. and his family. And Daddy even knows how to use it. He watches marathons of Murder, She Wrote."

"You're kidding. Hey, maybe you'll be like her someday," he teased.

"Oh please. Everyone knows Jessica Fletcher was a serial killer. Everywhere she went, someone ended up dead."

Fritz laughed. "Do you watch with him?"

"Sometimes. Other times, I think he wants to be left alone. He and Mama used to watch them together." Her voice hitched at the end.

"How's he doing?"

"Oh, I don't know. He seems ok, most of the time. Gets real quiet other times. And he looks so tired. That worries me."

"It's been so hot this summer - that probably doesn't help."

"No. He gets out of the house plenty, though."

"Well, that's good. Active is good."

Brenda was quiet.

"Honey?"

She took a shuddering breath. "She's everywhere, Fritz. Mama's just everywhere you look in this house. I keep expectin' to hear her voice or see her standin' in the kitchen…" Her voice shook as she spoke.

His poor girl. She'd had a hard enough time in their house after Willie Rae had passed, and he couldn't imagine how hard it was for her to be immersed in memories at her parents' house like that.

"Shouldn't that make me feel better," she continued, "seein' reminders of her? But it doesn't. Instead of bein' reminders of her life and how wonderful she was, they just remind me she's gone and I'll never see her again."

Fritz felt his heart crack a little at the pain in her voice. "It'll get better, honey. But maybe you should think about getting out of the house some, too."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. Maybe I'll go take a walk or somethin'. Let you get ready for work."

Crap. He hadn't meant right this very minute. He mentally slapped himself for opening an escape hatch right in front of her. "Listen, is there anything I can do? Or anything you want me to send you? You've got to be getting a little bored."

"No, just hearing your voice is enough. Call me tonight?"

After assuring her he would call, and tasking her with picking a movie, he let her make her escape. Then he got showered and dressed and headed into the office to try to lose himself in work. He didn't think he'd ever been so happy to have to work on a weekend before. But it didn't stray far from his mind how quickly Brenda ran just as she was starting to open up about what she was feeling much like she ran from her father's questions about her job.

* * *

As promised, Fritz called back later that night. Brenda was already ensconced in her bedroom waiting for his call, and she had picked out one of her old favorites for the movie. It was a rather old film, Witness for the Prosecution, that they'd watched before. But it was a good one, and they both liked picking apart the case and speculating how it might go in the present time with modern crime-solving technology. They argued over various points of procedure and got into a rather heated debate about the intricacies of spousal privilege, but it was all in fun. They were both very happy Fritz had suggested the movie idea. It wasn't the same as being cuddled up on the couch or in their bed together, but knowing they were looking at the same thing on their laptop screens made them feel closer somehow.

Unfortunately, however, Brenda seemed wholly uninterested in discussing much of anything else besides the movie and was resistant to picking up their conversation from earlier in the day. Fritz had started to ask what he felt was an innocuous question, and she'd shut him down by changing the subject incredibly fast. He knew what Brenda was doing and, at least for tonight, he would continue to let her do it. Knowing Clay, the man had probably kept at Brenda off and on all day, trying to pepper her with questions about her job. She'd probably hit her limit for the day. So instead of pushing it, he decided to just be there for her and give her a distraction. He could almost feel her relax over the phone and he heard the tension in her voice ease when he backed off, and he knew he'd made the right choice.

But for how long would it be the right choice? Changing the subject and running literally and/or figuratively were classic Brenda avoidance strategies. Fritz was well versed in these methods, since she'd employed them the entire time they'd been together and likely for years and years before that. To be honest, he'd have been surprised if she _hadn't_ made use of them in the wake of recent events. But trying to avoid a disagreement with him or some issue at work was one thing; trying to avoid the fallout from the mountain of shit she'd endured was entirely another. Neither grief nor healing could be rushed, but running from it would only postpone it, not make the pain go away.

And Fritz thought she seemed "off" somehow. It was understandable, given repeated traumas, but he thought he might have detected a note of _something_ else there. Maybe he'd been naive to hope the change in scenery, a break from LA and a year's worth of bad memories, would be a good thing in some ways for her, especially given she seemed to be drowning in memories of her mother. He'd hoped time spent with her beloved and doting father would help, too. But based on their earlier conversation, while she might be in Atlanta, but she was still actively running from LA and it's bad memories in addition to her grief. He could only hope she wasn't running from herself, too.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: See, I told you it wouldn't be as long for the next update! Sorry about the last update with the link not working - apparently it wasn't just this story that wasn't displaying a new chapter. But grab hold of something, because here we go. TIme to ratchet things up a bit…

* * *

**Chapter 5**

One weekday afternoon, Brenda was home alone after Clay had gone off to the VFW for what appeared to be a regular meeting. She strongly suspected this "meeting" consisted of playing cards and gossiping more than the old women at church. (She didn't care what the stereotype of gossiping women was - men gossiped every bit as much as women, if not more so.) The house was clean, there were no appointments to go to, and Brenda was at a loss as to what to do with herself. She'd been a workaholic for over 20 years, and she struggled with not having a job to go to. The few times she'd been idled over the years, like when she was on leave during her sexual misconduct investigation in Atlanta and after the shooting in the murder room in LA, she had gone stir crazy. In addition to being stressed about whether or not she still had a job, she had been bored out of her mind. This time, though, boredom didn't really describe what she was feeling. She felt… lost. Completely adrift.

Brenda looked around, seeing the silent reminders of Mama and as usual felt the squeeze in her chest. She thought about going through some of her mother's things, looking for clues about whatever Mama had wanted to tell her. Fritz had implored her more than once to leave it alone, to not make herself crazy with the wondering and regret, but she just couldn't drop it. _"There's somethin' I really ought to tell you. It'll only take a minute."_ Those words, and her dismissal of them, haunted her.

She went over to her mother's desk and sat down. Taking a deep breath, she opened the top drawer and drew some papers out. The sight of her mother's familiar handwriting nearly undid her. She traced her fingers over the letters, as if searching for some connection on the page or as if her mother's voice would come from it. But of course nothing happened, and tears blurred her vision. She put the papers back in the drawer and shut it firmly, albeit with a shaking hand. Maybe she'd try again tomorrow.

In the meantime, she had to do something to occupy herself to keep from going nuts, and getting out of the house was a good start. Fritz was absolutely right about that. So she went outside to resume a task she'd already started - tackling the weeds in Mama's gardens. Willie Rae had always taken such pride in her flowers, herbs, and other plants, and things had gone by the wayside since her death. It looked like someone had done something and watered regularly, but it was spotty looking. The gardens had never been in disarray while her mother was alive, and Brenda was determined to not let that happen now. They would be as pristine as they had always been. She did manage to feel a connection to her mother there, working in the earth under the sunshine. The feel of the warm soil under her hands was soothing, and it was satisfying to see visible evidence of her progress as she moved from bed to bed. She thought regretfully about how much she'd hated being drafted to help with the tasks when she was a teen. Her mother had just wanted to spend some time with her daughter, but Brenda had always had some other place she'd rather be. She was pained she had continued that so far into adulthood as well. What she wouldn't give to take that all back now. But she thought maybe she could feel just a little closer to her mother this way, by doing something she had loved so much.

The gardening also had a bonus in that it allowed her a little distance from her father, an escape route, either to avoid his questioning or when his stubbornness got on her nerves. She planned on hiding out in the gardens for at least a little while every day the weather permitted it. She just hoped she didn't kill everything out there.

Brenda hadn't been working long when she noticed Charlie's car pull into the driveway. She went to greet her.

"Hi Charlie. Your Grandpa's out - meeting at the VFW."

"Shooting the shit, uh, breeze - sorry - with his cronies, you mean."

Brenda laughed. "Probably."

"That's ok. I want to hang out with you."

Charlie had always adored her Aunt Brenda, surly teenage brat period aside. She was pretty, she was funny, and she was a total bad-ass. She'd been in the CIA. _The CIA_! How cool was that? Charlie liked to think she'd been a part of some serious top-secret missions. And then she became a high ranking cop who didn't take any crap from anyone. She certainly didn't fall in line with being a "proper Southern lady". No, she'd made her own way, and Charlie admired the hell out of her for that and decided she'd make her own way, too.

Charlie was about 8 when Brenda had moved back to Atlanta from DC, and her aunt was a precocious girl's dream come true. Not only did she have a cool job, but Brenda never made her feel like a dumb little kid and seemed more than happy to get into trouble with her. ("Would your Mama and Daddy let you do this?" "No." "Well, I won't tell if you won't.") Plus, she told some great stories about Charlie's dad as a kid. And she always had chocolate. When Charlie got a little older, she felt like she could tell her aunt things she couldn't tell anyone else, about boys, school, life in general. She had been crushed when Brenda moved to LA and had missed her terribly. Charlie knew that visit a couple of years ago had been crucial to her getting back on track. Who knows where she'd be right now without that. Certainly not enrolled in community college and taking criminal justice pre-reqs. And while she hated the reasons for Brenda's current visit, she was thrilled at the prospect of spending time with her. She might not be a little girl any more, but she still thought of Brenda as sort of a superhero. Even if the superhero was currently wearing a hideous floppy hat to shield herself from the sun and was holding a spade instead of a gun.

"Maybe I could help you, in the garden," Charlie offered.

"I'd like that," Brenda replied, wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

They worked together for awhile, just chatting while trying to determine which plants were weeds and which were supposed to be there. But the day was hot, and eventually they sought refuge in the air conditioned house. They were in the kitchen, cleaning up and getting cold drinks, when it happened. Brenda was at the sink and Charlie was getting glasses out of the cabinet and let the door slam and kicked another cabinet closed. Bang. Bang. It was just a flash, but in Brenda's mind it was near enough to gunshots and suddenly she was back in her kitchen with Stroh. Charlie watched in surprise and then concern as her aunt froze and all color drained from her face.

"Aunt Brenda?"

Brenda remained pale, and she was gripping the edge of the sink so tightly her knuckles had turned white. The kitchen she was actually in came back into focus and she was aware Charlie had come to hover next to her.

"Aunt Brenda? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

Brenda mentally shook herself and told herself to get a grip. "Oh. Yes, yes of course. I'm fine, honey. Just a little too much sun is all."

Charlie thought that for someone who could lie to anyone about anything at any time for a living, her aunt was doing a terrible job of it now. But she knew better than to press it. Maybe later she'd bring up the LA Times article she'd found online about an incident with a deputy chief, but clearly not today. Instead, she pressed a glass of water into her aunt's hand and steered her into the living room to sit on the sofa.

Once Charlie left, Brenda let her head fall into her hands. Was she starting to lose it, she wondered? For real this time? She thought back a few years, to a visit with the department shrink after she'd shot and killed the PCH killer after nearly having become victim #3 herself. She could hear Dr. Leonard's voice clearly in her memory. _"So, other than possible early-onset menopause, getting engaged, having your parents come into town, buying a new house, and being attacked with a cattle prod, then shooting and killing your assailant, there's nothing significant happening in your life?"_

Brenda imagined Dr. Leonard would have something very similar to say now: "So, other than being sued and nearly losing everything you have, your father getting cancer, finding your mother dead in your guest room, having your favorite detective be the leak in your department, being attacked in your home and shooting your assailant, and feeling you had no choice but to resign from the job you loved, there's nothing significant happening in your life?"

_Shit_.

Brenda hadn't gone to behavioral after shooting Stroh, as was required after an officer-involved shooting. Captain Raydor knew Brenda well enough to know she wasn't going to schedule the appointment with the department shrink, so Raydor did it herself. The captain even suggested someone outside the department after Brenda missed her first appointment, thinking that might be more comfortable for her and knowing that if the city attorneys ever agreed to drop the reprimand extended counseling would likely be part of the deal. But Brenda didn't go. She was going to resign, so what was the point? Fritz had asked at one point if she'd gone to her appointment. Brenda said no, and he let the matter drop. But Brenda knew very well that it wouldn't be the end of it. Fritz would let things go until he didn't. Then he could be relentless. She supposed the only positive thing about being away from him right now was he'd likely leave her alone about it for the time being, because he wouldn't want to get into it over the phone.

Thank God Fritz hadn't seen this little episode, and she prayed it wouldn't get back to him. She knew he and Charlie texted and emailed sometimes. If he knew about this, he'd be all over it. She hadn't told him about the flashback she'd had a couple of days before she left for Atlanta either, and she never planned to. She knew he was already worried enough about the nightmares she was having before she left in addition to being worried about her in general.

Brenda wasn't stupid; she knew what was going on. It had happened before, years ago. The CIA shrink had called it "Acute Stress Disorder" when she was pulled from the field and reassigned as state department liaison to the DCPD after the "incident" in Russia. Well, she'd certainly been stressed enough the past year. A heaping combo platter of professional and personal trauma topped off with a visit from the devil. She didn't know why she should be surprised ASD would rear it's ugly head again. At least it wasn't as bad this time. Yet, anyway. She was pulled from her thoughts as she heard the back door slam open, announcing her father's return.

"Brenda Leigh? I picked up some groceries on my way home. Help me put them away, would you?"

"Sure, Daddy." She went to the kitchen, hoping he wouldn't sense anything wrong. She'd pulled it together the last time, more or less, and she'd do it this time, too.

This time, she had someone to hold onto in the dark. She looked at the clock as she put the groceries away, counting the hours until she could call Fritz to tuck her in. She certainly didn't plan on telling him anything beyond the mundane details of her day, but she needed to hear his voice, to be comforted by it, to feel his love. It was a lifeline. Maybe, she'd go to bed just a bit early tonight…

* * *

A/N: Yep, she's unravelling. I wondered if I was going too far with the flashbacks, but I don't think I am. Watch 7x15, 7x16, and 7x18 back to back to back sometime (leave out the Provenza/Flynn caper since it doesn't fit with the rest). She's come undone. And that was BEFORE Mama died, the leak reveal, and Stroh tried to kill her in her kitchen. I know, I know, Brenda's a strong, strong character. But no one's that strong, and I don't mean to imply weakness. I'm going for vulnerability, and there's a considerable difference between the two. I don't think Stroh on his own would be able to send her into a spiral, but she was already incredibly vulnerable by that time, and a physical assault would be that much more traumatic to her already stressed out system. But don't worry - I won't have her completely lose it, despite some of what you'll read later. She'll get better. It'll take a little while though, like it would in real life. (And I can't help it - I really like angst. I have no idea what that says about me.)

Oh, the Russia thing? I totally made that up. Maybe I'll use it later, in this story or another one. I haven't decided.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here's a filler chapter, courtesy of a long tedious staff meeting that touched on budgets, the sequester, blah, blah, blah. I got bored and came up with this instead of taking notes. Or paying attention. Your tax dollars at work, my friends. Anyway, Fritz misses his girl.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Fritz woke up suddenly in the middle of the night from a very vivid dream. Once he got his bearings, he flopped back against the pillows with a disappointed and frustrated groan. His heart was pounding and he was sweaty and out of breath. And aroused. He'd dreamed Brenda was there in bed with him and he was making love to her. In his dream, she was wearing an FBI t-shirt of his that he couldn't find and suspected she'd taken to Atlanta with her. He loved how she looking in his clothes. And out of them. And his dream self had gotten her out of them and he had her in his arms and was kissing her and caressing her incredible curves and soft skin. She was moaning under his touch. He was just about to be surrounded by her completely when he woke. He made another noise of frustration and rolled over, grabbing her pillow and hugging it to him.

Fritz was struggling with the separation, and it wasn't just that he missed the sex. Of course he missed that. He and Brenda had been incredibly compatible in that department from the beginning. But it's not like it had been super frequent in the last couple months anyway, other than right before she left. How could it have been? "Hey honey, I know your world has just been blown to hell a few times over, but feel like getting frisky?" Yeah right. But even when they weren't making love, they still touched each other. A lot. Holding hands. His arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her curled up against him in bed or on the couch while he stroked her silky hair. Sharing sweet kisses. He sighed and buried his face in her pillow, trying to catch a hint of her scent that remained there. What he wouldn't give to hold and kiss her right now.

Fritz was a very tactile person - he liked to touch and be touched. And fortunately for him, Brenda was as well, although that would shock the hell out of most who knew her and she tried her best to hide it. He knew from her mother that she'd always been that way, with certain people anyway, ever since she was a baby. Willie Rae had told him what a blessing it was, with 3 little boys who rarely sat still for 2 seconds, to finally have a little one who she could sit with and cuddle. She'd also told him how Clay would come home from work, greet her with a kiss, say hi to the boys, then go get his angel from her crib and hold her, sometimes for hours. Fritz had held his angel for hours at a stretch, too. And he really, really missed that contact. Because even though Brenda could drive him completely crazy, having her in his arms calmed him like nothing else did. And when she nestled into him and whispered that she loved him, giving him her trust and her heart, he felt like the man he'd always hoped he could be.

He sighed again. Sometimes, even after all these years, he still couldn't believe he had her in his life. It hadn't been the easiest road, even without the turmoil of the past year. It had taken a ton of patience and perseverance on his part and a long struggle by Brenda to let go of some of her fears, and the relationship had been rocky at times. Sometimes really rocky. There had been times when he hadn't been sure they were going to make it, even though the alternative was unthinkable for him.

But they had held onto each other, and their relationship had improved over the years they'd been married. She had even begun to make efforts to choose him over her career once in awhile, and even though this came in fits and starts, there had been progress. This was especially true after she finally allowed him to tell her everything she didn't want to hear about his alcoholism. She seemed to be much more mindful of his condition ever since, and he felt less alone with it. His mind transported him back a few months to a particularly dark day and night, which had ended with an unexpected ray of light.

_In the middle of the afternoon, Fritz received a phone call from his AA sponsor, Jeff. Haltingly, Jeff told Fritz he'd gotten drunk the night before. Twelve years of sobriety gone. Just like that. The news completely rocked Fritz. His mentor, the one he looked up to in his sobriety, the one who'd made him feel like he could get through the rest of his life without succumbing to booze again, had faltered. He felt sick. If it happened to Jeff, what was stopping it from happening to him, too? Fritz left work early, hoping the comfort of home could help. He prayed he wouldn't feel the pull for a drink. Who would he call now if he did? He had no sponsor until he could find a new one. He collapsed into a chair in the dining room, his mind in a turmoil of dark thoughts. He had no idea how much time had gone by when he heard Brenda's keys in the back door. _

_"Fritzy, I'm home. I made sure to get the hot mustard from the Chinese place this time." She bustled about, getting out of her coat, grabbing some plates and silverware, and bringing the food into the dining room. "I just got the usual. I tried to call to ask if you wanted anything different, but…" She trailed off as she saw him sitting at the dining room table with his head in his hands. "Fritz?"_

_He looked up, and his drawn face and red-rimmed eyes alarmed her. She went to his side immediately._

_"Fritzy, what's wrong? What's happened?"_

_"It's Jeff. My sponsor? He, uh, He called to tell me he was drinking last night."_

_Brenda still didn't understand anywhere close to everything about AA, but she knew this was big. She knew Fritz thought so highly of Jeff, and this had to be killing him. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry." Dinner forgotten, Brenda sat down in her husband's lap and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. His arms went around her waist and he clung to her, desperate for her comfort. They sat together in silence for a long time until her cell phone rang. She started, but let it ring. _

_"Aren't you going to get that?" he asked._

_"No." _

_He was touched. It was so rare that she put him before the job._

_She also failed to move to answer the phone when it rang the second time several minutes later. "That's what voicemail is for," she told him, while she held him even closer to her and rubbed his back. But the third time it rang, the land line rang simultaneously, and he urged her to answer one of them. It was Provenza, alerting her to a case with possible multiple victims. Brenda told him to get on scene, act as incident commander, and update her with what he found. But she made absolutely no move to leave Fritz._

_Unfortunately, the next time the phone rang it was Pope. He was livid that Brenda was not yet at the crime scene. She tried to defer but could barely get a word in, and Fritz could clearly hear Pope reaming her out on the other end of the line for not being there, finishing with an irate "That's an order, Chief Johnson!"_

_Brenda sagged against him, and he knew she was going to have to leave. She told him briefly about the crime, the multiple bodies, the indications of a hate crime, the press converging. She apologized over and over again and he heard the sincerity in her voice and saw it in her eyes. He was disappointed, but by the timing and circumstances, not with her. This wasn't one of those times she was being a micromanager. She couldn't delegate this with the press circling and orders from a superior officer, but knowing she wanted to meant the world to him. And it made him feel better instead of just being upset at her departure. He hugged her as she left, assuring her he would be ok. He'd go to a meeting, and she didn't have to worry. But worry she did. She sent him a couple text messages for him to call her if he needed to and she left a voicemail while he was in the meeting. And instead of staying away until the case was done as she normally would have, she slipped back in in the hour before dawn. She slid into bed next to him and wrapped herself around him. She'd known he needed her, and she gave him everything._

God, he missed her.

He hoped Brenda knew how much he missed her, and he made a mental note to send her some flowers (and chocolate, of course). He wanted to give her a tangible message that he loved her and was thinking of her. And he knew it would brighten her day, many of which he could tell were hard and stressful.

Fritz thought back to their phone call that night. They had had what seemed like a normal conversation, just talking about their days and other random things. But she was hiding something, he was sure of it. She may have been able to fool suspects, but not him. He wished she'd let him in. She talked about her mother some, but none of the other events that had happened. Not a word about the lawsuit, the leak, or Stroh. He really hoped she wasn't locking these things away completely, but he stopped himself from pushing her to discuss them. He knew from experience that pushing her could be counterproductive. It was necessary, at times, but he worried with the physical distance between them that it might be even more counterproductive than normal. So he thought he'd continue to try his new approach, at least for awhile, and not push. She'd been starting to open up a bit more on her own recently, even before she'd left for Atlanta, and he wanted to give her the space to continue to do that. And she seemed to be reaching out to him, even if she wasn't exactly spilling her guts. She was calling earlier and wanting to stay on the line longer, sometimes until she was nearly asleep. He'd be going to Atlanta for a visit soon, and if he felt she was still avoiding what had happened, he could address it then, face-to-face. She wouldn't be able to hang up on him then. She seemed on edge, and if she was already running from things as she seemed to be, he didn't want her to run from him, too. Where would she turn then?

He'd had that same concern, about where she'd run, during the lawsuit. He worried about the what the personal effects and fallout of the lawsuit might be, the strain it might put on their marriage and if it could withstand it. Because when the going got tough, particularly on a personal level, Brenda ran. And she usually ran to bury herself in her work where she felt secure and confident. But the lawsuit, and the related leak, meant work was no longer a safe and secure place for her. He worried about where she would run to in its absence. He had been surprised, relieved, and grateful that she had turned to him. Time and time again, she turned to and relied on him for support, telling him on multiple occasions how much she appreciated his being there. _He_ became her safe place. And while the circumstances were horrible, he was so pleased with the unforeseen outcome. Somehow, instead of the marriage becoming strained, it became stronger. He treasured their new closeness even as it made the separation seem even harder to take.

Fritz sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, and tried reminding himself that Brenda wasn't gone forever and a few weeks apart was really nothing in the grand scheme of things. But he didn't think anything would ease the ache of her absence, no matter how many flowers he sent or how much time they spent on the phone. He couldn't wait until she was in his arms again. Nothing would seem quite right until then.

TBC (hopefully quicker than a month)...


End file.
